FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Steven sat at the desk in his room. It was so late, it was about to become early. He didn't have any classes until later the next day, so he could stay up and not stress. He had already spent part of the night roleplaying with a couple of his buddies. It hadn't even been a particular exciting or noteworthy night. Then he had gotten a little pop-up in the corner of his computer screen, telling him he had a new email.

While Steven wasn't exactly a computer savvy guy, he had never seen his computer actually notify him of an email. Curious, yet hesitant in case it was a virus, he clicked it. A new window popped open and a message sat on white for him.

"Dear Steven, your online character, Crystal, has intrigued me. I've gone through the backstory you developed and I can't help but wonder what you would do if you met her in real life? Your idea of a dragon child sold by her own parents is heart-wrenching. I particularly liked the slave collar that was kept on her in order to keep her in a humanoid form. Then I reached the point where she hit puberty and began to develop drastically large proportions of bust, hips, and butt. I found that part of her history to be rather hormone-driven, but I could accept it. The way you wrote it so she became sexually abused, even as a child and further into adulthood and the psyche you built around her? Absolutely brilliant and creative. Even the moments where we get a glimpse of how pure her heart still can be outside of the bedroom makes me give you applause for your unique ideas. I do have a small question though. If you could, would you be willing to spend one night with your character?

Signed, The Creator."

Steven finished reading the email and scratched his head. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling of his cheap one-bedroom apartment, thinking how best to respond. While he did role-play with a bunch of other characters, he never heard of this 'Creator' guy. The question seemed simple, yet kinda stupid to ask. He thought about it and just assumed everyone would love to meet their 'furry' half if given the chance.

He shrugged and decided it wasn't worth spending any more time on it. He had at least a few more good hours of RP's before he would crash into bed. He shouldn't concern himself with a fan boy who had read his stories. He turned back to the keyboard and typed up a quick reply, then hit send. He returned to his chatroom and told everyone he would be right back. He got the usual variety of responses, ranging from serious to teasing about what they would do to his dragoness while he was gone. It just made him roll his eyes.

He stood up and stretched, then walked to the bathroom. As he relieved his bladder of fluids, he began thinking about the next chapter he planned to write in his 'Crystal' series. She had already been freed of the slavers. He needed to really grab his reader's attention and make them feel for her, while still finding her sexually attractive. As he washed his hands, he wondered if her having a child to rear would be premature, or make her one hot mom. He grinned at the idea, his mind cheering the thought of her with bigger breasts, inflated with milk. Suddenly feeling like he needed to write, he walked back into his bedroom. As he stepped back in, he noticed that the lights in the bedroom were off. He reached for the switch and tried flicking it back and forth. Nothing changed in the room.

Then his bed creaked. It wasn't the nicest of beds, just something he had gotten cheap off of some guy moving. He was a college student after all. It creaked every single time anyone put any weight on it and every time someone shifted at all. "Uh, hello," he called out to the darkness. His curtains were pulled shut, so he couldn't quite see what had made the noise or if he was just imagining things.

"Close the door," a voice hissed, causing Steven's heart to jump through his chest. Someone was in his room and he had locked the door when he had come home earlier, he was certain of it. He backed up, keeping his eyes fixed on the spot where his bed was. It was still a blob of darkness there. He tried reaching around for the door handle without actually looking for it, but his hand grasped at empty air repeatedly.

"If you won't close it, I will," the voice snarled. The door slammed shut and he felt the air moving just inches from his skin. If his hand had been any further back, it might have been caught in that.

Steven tried to rally, his knees wobbling, "I...I have a weapon. Stay back or I'll call the cops!"

There came a quiet chuckle from the darkness, "And what, pray tell, would they be able to do in the time it took them to arrive here? By then, you would be dead."

He balked at the point. He didn't know if the other person in the room was a thief, a friend pulling a prank, or some kind of serial killer. "What...what do you want?"

"You." The voice was moving and somehow the darkness was moving with it. He could hear the sound of something large thumping to the ground and then dragging across it. "I want you, Steven."

The voice was feminine, but was slightly rough instead of soft. He backed up to the wall as he watched that absence of light move. As it started to shift one way, he slid against the wall the other way. "Why would you want me," he asked, fearful. "I'm nobody. I'm nothing. I've never even had sex for Christ's sake!" His breath became shallow and sweat poured down his forehead and neck. He tried to rationalize things, "Are you...a stalker? I mean, if that's the case, then it's okay. You can do whatever to me and..."

There was a snarl and then a rush of something moving. Steven felt a mass of weight slam into him, knocking the wind out of him as it lifted him upwards, "A stalker!? How dare you!" He gasped for air, trying to get something back into his lungs as he felt his feet leave the floor.

The hand gripping his chest and part of his neck was large. The figure behind it was larger. "You know me! And you should know why I am here!"

"Oh god, I swear, I don't know you! I don't know why you're here!" This elicited a scream of frustration that should have been loud enough to attract someone's attention in the building. The figure dragged him over to his desk. He found himself being shoved into the chair and pushed backwards in it. His chair rolled all the way back to his bed and bumped into it, making his already adrenaline-pumped body to jump slightly.

The dark figure grabbed the window curtains and threw them open. "Look at me in all my pathetic majesty," she demanded. The figure was bathed in moonlight. In front of Steven was a red anthro dragoness, wearing barely anything at all, just scraps of brown cloth put together to give her some sort of decency. Her bust was overflowing out of the little support they had, barely covering her private parts. Her breasts heaved as she stared at him, her face contorted in anger. Yet his eyes travelled over her hourglass figure, across her wide hips and shapely behind and tail.

The moonlight gave her a rather eerie look, almost a surreal one. "Do you know me," she asked of him. His eyes fell upon the marks on her body that patterned her scales. They were not red and they did not glisten. They were dull shades of brown and pink that crisscrossed her body. Scars.

Steven felt his fear drop away and a feeling of awe took its place, "You're...you're Crystal. My character. But how...?"

She didn't answer him. She began to spin around, showing herself off. Where wings should have grown were two stumps, muscles still shifting under them as though her body could still try to flap the absent appendages. His eyes could have stared at the way her rump had two bubble shapes that jiggled as she moved under her thick scaly tail. But he couldn't take them off those stumps. He had written that they had been torn off as a child.

She wore only a small pair of covering between her legs. When she was finished turning, she stared at him. "Was it worth it?"

Steven felt small in his chair as he managed to get out a very quiet, "What?"

Her lips pulled back and bared teeth, "Doing this to me?!" She began to stomp towards him, looming. Each step, he tried to shrink further into his chair, but it could only lean so far back with the bed behind him. She stood 9'10" tall. He had written her that way. When he had imagined her, he thought it would be the perfect height for a woman so he could hug into her soft bosom, but not be asphyxiated by it. Now, his creation loomed over him. She grabbed either side of his chair, jarring it and bringing it back to the full upright position. The chair's movement ended, but Steven's body kept going forward and almost face planted directly into her cleavage. 36K he had written. Now there was something else to focus on though. A very large muzzle full of teeth directly in his face, bright blue eyes that burrowed into his soul.

"Why shouldn't I kill you," she managed to get out in a harsh whisper. "Give me a reason."

He looked up at her and he felt tears begin to stream down his face, "I...I don't understand."

"You don't understand," she snapped, her sharp teeth seeming far too close. "Do you know what I've lived through? I saw my mother's smug face when she sold me off to a merchant. I cried to her, begging her to rescue me from the strange creature that had tied my wings up and put this abominable collar around my neck." She touched the dulled silver thick ring that still enveloped her neck. "And she just sat there on her horde, looking so pleased with herself for adding to her mountain of treasure at my expense! I cried myself to sleep for months! You did that to me! I lived what you wrote!"

As complete understanding set in, Steven began to feel sick. "What have I done," he asked aloud, his eyes unfocused as he recalled her entire backstory.

"You maimed me. You whipped me. You abused me. You assaulted me." With each sentence, she got louder, her hands clenching and unclenching the armrests on his chair. "You RAPED me! You did this to me with your words. I am what you created..." Her claws shifted from the chair to his neck. "And I could kill you right now with barely any effort. Just a little squeeze and my pain would be over. So tell me, my maker... Why shouldn't I kill you and end it?"

Steven sat there, the full weight of what he had done sinking in. He had created a 'fun' character for a role-play. Something that could be sexualized and dominated and would grab everyone's eye when she walked into the 'chat room'.

And everything he had written, all the horrors to make her a fulfillment of his fantasies, she had lived.

He was stunned beyond comprehension that she had lived the years that had taken him seconds to write. The touch of a key. "I don't deserve to live," he managed to get out. He wasn't sure how he had even gotten that out. He felt a sob bubble out of his chest and escape loudly despite the claws on his neck. The power behind the blue eyes began to fade at last and the claws slinked off of his neck and down to his arms.

Steven reached down and grabbed one of her claws. It was bigger than his hand, but he lifted it back up to his neck with some effort. She scoffed weakly, "What are you doing?"

"End me," he told her. "I don't deserve... You should have you vengeance."

She pulled her claw away with ease, her entire body sinking to the floor at his feet. "I told myself it would be easy," the words spilled off her lips. "I would kill you and I would have the power to choose my own fate. But now that I'm here with you? I can't."

Steven slowly uncurled himself from his position in the chair, sliding out of it and onto the floor with his dragoness, "I don't deserve it, but I beg you, forgive me."

She looked up at him with those perfectly sapphire blue eyes, tears beginning to well up. He reached out to her, but she flinched away. "No," she shook her head, "I won't be a slave to a man's desire while I have the control to say so."

The stone in Steven's gut sank even deeper, if that was possible. He tried to find any words that would be right here, but his lips moved without any sound. Instead, he reached out and grabbed her claw again. She turned her head away from him, her body still crouched on the floor. He didn't pull her towards him, but moved his head to her hand. He let his forehead touch it, trying to convey all his heart's sympathy and apologies in that one move. His tears splashed against her warm scales and he did his best to not let the mucus pouring out of his nose get on her too.

Before he could let her go, her entire body shifted to wrap itself around his, each hugging the other like they were the only sane thing in a crazy world. There was nothing sexual in the way their bodies touched. They were both drowning in a sea of emotions that couldn't be expressed. Steven's stories had always been stories to him. Yet here, in this moment, his story was with him in the flesh. Crystal had lived the life that he had crafted for her without a thought to what it had done to her.

When the morning finally came and he awoke in his bed, he felt different than he had the day before. His apartment bedroom was the same. There was no dragoness sleeping next to him or sitting, waiting for him to awaken. For all he knew, it might have all been a dream. But when he sat in front of his computer, he remembered her. He pulled up his story about Crystal and began to write. He had a few hours before class began for the day and he needed to give her a happy ending. She deserved it. She had endured enough.